


The Queen and Her Generals

by DovahGeneral



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, Fantasy, Friendship, Gen, Novelization, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:28:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DovahGeneral/pseuds/DovahGeneral
Summary: After the Holy Kingdom of Archanea fell under the banner of Emperor Medeus of the Dolhr Empire, a queen, a noble, and a soldier gathered to bring about the end of his tyranny. They all desired the end of his reign over the continent, and were willing to die for said dream, but the tides of war do not only smile for the just—tragedy is always a constant in times of conflict.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit and fan-based work of fiction not affiliated with the original product. Fire Emblem is owned and created by Nintendo and Intelligent Systems. Please support the official release.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: There may be some scenes and themes that are disturbing to some readers. Please be advised. The following story is both a novelization and Alternate Universe Fic based on both the source material games and supplementary materials. There are changes to the universe, characters, abilities, and plot for the narrative written. This fanfiction will be updated every Monday until further notice. For more information, thoughts, and updates, please head to my main profile on Fanfiction.net and the Author’s Notes at the bottom. Please enjoy the story.  
> Update #1: Some grammar fixed, and replaced some em dashes with commas to remove emphasis. Additional sentences were added to elongate and refine the chapter.

“If death were to come by the morrow, would you take its hand with the acceptance of what’s to come, or would you rather take the life granted to you by the gods to see the darkness through methods that you decided upon?”

“How about we don’t talk about something as morbid as we’ll die by the morrow, and instead focus on something else. No offense, but the only things you have been talking about for the last hour are whether or not we’ll see next daylight, and the best methods to bring one’s life to its inevitable fate.”

Anri shrugged as his younger brother—Marcelus the Younger, his namesake being that of their father—simply lounged about, ironically ignoring his own advice as the thirteen-year-old boy simply tried to sleep away the job they were on.

The elder brother of two summers would’ve scowled at him if not for the fact that the younger was in a bad enough mood to do physical harm if pushed hard enough. It had been a hard day beforehand, and the fact they were stuck here in what is a suicide mission didn’t help nobody.

Still, both understood that they were chosen for this scouting mission by the military governor—Bryan of Lefcandith, the younger brother of the lord of said fiefdom—was thanks to the two brothers growing up in the region during their childhood in the villages southwards.

Even other members of the Archanean army from the islands failed to understand the terrain as they did and as such the two were, without complaint from anyone but Marcelus, sent to act as reconnaissance to make sure the enemy army wasn’t coming straight for them.

They all knew there was to be a siege to come, but so long as they could prepare for a defensive battle was the commander confident in the ability to hold the colony of Gra from the invaders from the Dolhr Empire.

Anri, although felt similarly earlier, began to realize such a belief was shrouded in human failure as the duo soon discovered the enemy forces after a day of scouting.

They believed they had discovered the main bulk of the army initially and went on to write down their findings. It only took three hours for the parchment they wrote upon to be burnt to soot as they learned of their mistake when the actual main force joined up with the vanguard they found.

The Altean Islands—with a total population of eighty thousand men and women in terms of native descendants, and thirty thousand mainlanders—could muster a levy of twenty thousand in the worst of times compared to the mainland of the Holy Kingdom of Archanea, which raised armies of one hundred thousand during the conquests of King Jakobin a century earlier to the eastern coast.

In contrast with the advancing army, they had about five thousand standing men as of that day, and the Dolhrians seemed to have brought with them a vanguard of ten thousand, followed up by a main force of thirty thousand.

Knowing that the majority were still stationed in the recently capitulated capital city of Pales, it was obvious that there was no hope in any reinforcements to help defend the islands as the last news from the mainland was that the royal family and the sixty thousand soldiers were hoping to find refuge in the northern colony of Aurelis.

Marcelus, upon hearing of the news, was less surprised and more apathetic about the entire affair as always. Despite his complaints about his brother’s fatalism, he himself was no better and sometimes spoke the same flowery language Anri rambled about with.

Still, Marcelus did have a problem with the tone of conversation between the two, and decided to start a new topic to bring their minds to ease, or at least keep the topic from shifting back into death and misery.

“How about the beauty, Fiora, that you’re courting,” began him. “I know the two of you have been sneaking out to each other in the night despite warnings by the elders. How far from now to then will it be until I see nephews and nieces about?”

“Never,” bitterly admitted Anri. “It seems she was involved in a local dance in one of the neighboring villages, and got the favor the chief’s son. It doesn’t help that when the wine came out did she supposedly drink and lost the ability to recall, yet I remember her lacking the ability to be fazed by the drinks of the mind.”

“Oh… I guess I shouldn’t have brought her up,” muttered Marcelus. Instead of moping about, Anri seemed to perk up shortly after, meaning at the very least the concept of their eventual demise was not the forefront of his thoughts.

“What about you? Haven’t you been desiring a wife for yourself? I mean, you’ve been born for thirteen summers and one spring, and yet you already desire that which you really shouldn’t be thinking of until my age.”

“Well, things have yet to go my way so far,” said Marcelus. “I tried to take out Laria to a local dance, yet she only smacked me on the left cheek when I attempted to bring her to myself. I guess I should’ve seen it coming; she has something with Marcus I recall.”

“You tried to seduce a girl who’s marrying a mainlander?” Anri’s face turned from a solemn frown and into the worst looking smile Marcelus has ever seen in his life. “Little brother, you are simply a young sparrow competing with the proud lions. Don’t expect the advantage of flight to outlast or compete with the sheer elegance of their manes.”

“Well, I know now, but back then I thought she was interested…”

A small chuckle emerged from the lips of Anri, and Marcelus could only do the same. “I guess neither of us are any good in the game of love,” admitted Anri.

Deciding that their conversation before the eventual conflict would be better off in the colonial settlement, the two brothers mounted their steeds they rode off in, and set off to the town westward by a couple hours.

Entering the forest to disguise themselves from the peering eyes of enemy soldiers, the two brothers kept quiet in the hopes that any scouting parties sent by the Dolhrians to not recognize nor hear them.

The horses instinctively dodged the trees, and although they lacked the speed and grace of a mainlander stallion, they all had agility and maneuverability, allowing them to dodge nimbly the incoming trunks of great oaks.

It did not stop Marcelus nor Anri from hitting a few branches on the way—something they had yet to get a hold of as they only started as cavalry soldiers for a month or so. They desired to become members of the equites in Archanea, which would allow them to become citizens in the major holds with all the benefits of one birthed on the mainland.

Of course, that level of military standing was that of such difficulty that majority of Archaneans themselves never reached that point in their careers for the state, instead going for less ambitious positions in the army as they had more to life than the sword compared to the foreign Altean brothers.

But it was a dream instilled in them by the stories of many who moved to the Pales before the war began, living their lives in rather luxurious conditions compared to the bogged down villages of the Altean Islands.

Well, supposedly it was like that. It was also known such cities were great centers of disease during plagues, but they also agreed upon when taking up the ambition that their current situation was no better anyways, and that they should die with a few more coins in their pockets anyhow.

As they continued onwards to the town, Marcelus suddenly became tense. Anri turned to him to figure out what was wrong before hearing the exact same thing his younger brother had heard moments ago.

Before long did a javelin become lodged in the trunk of a nearby tree, prompting the two to unsheathe their blades from their hips, and steer their mounts towards the incoming cavalry.

“Damn it all,” spat out Anri as he adjusted him for combat. He rode for the riders to intercept with his younger brother to follow suit, the two of them dealing with a group twice their number.

Anri dealt with one of the four immediately with a slash to the neck, cutting through his windpipe which caused blood to splutter out of his mouth, choking the man to death faster than he could bleed.

Two of the horsemen engaged the elder brother, leaving Marcelus with one person to do battle with. His own sword arm was no match for other men or his brother given his age, but he was more than willing to gain victory.

Upon locking swords with the man did he grab the head of his opponent. The man tried to shake him off, but Marcelus kicked at the head of his horse, forcing him to grab onto the beast to avoid falling off.

Prodding his thumb to his eye, the young boy pushed with all his might, creating a mighty scream out of the man as blood poured down his arm. Not paying attention to the sword fight, the man was felled with a swift stab through the chest, the weapon piercing through the mail armor with some difficulty.

The necessary force to impale the man, however, was more than enough to push it far enough to lodge the sword in the enemy’s body. As Marcelus tried to bring the sword out, a slash by a new soldier hit him in the back.

His own mail did its work and protected him from certain death, but the strike was enough to knock him off his mount and possibly break a rib from the back, causing enormous pain to the young child.

Anri—who was horrified upon seeing his brother—was still dealing with one final opponent before it became clear that they were now surrounded by three more men.

Quickly did he defeated his enemy with a blow to the skull before jumping off his mount, and slashing as one of the enemy horses, causing the rider to fall onto a rock, concussing the man.

Marcelus, still in the fight, managed finally to dislodge his blade, and hacked at the fallen man with all his strength left in him. Anri kept the remaining two at bay while his younger brother got his footing, but soon realized it was difficult for him to stand.

Anri had to admit the helmet he wore saved him as much as the mail saved his brother, but the blow from an axe to the head was enough to knock the fifteen-year-old to the ground. He clutched his head as he felt blood pour down slowly.

Things became somewhat blurry as he tried to keep his footing. He swore he saw Marcelus engage one of the men and take him out by grabbing him off his horse, but his vision was still recovering as the enemy missed his attack on him.

Trying to dodge the incoming attacks, Anri slashed in the direction of the soldier. The horse he rode upon went on its rear legs to avoid the slash, allowing Marcelus to once again knock down the soldier with a swing of his weapon.

Now with an opportunity in sight, the two brothers silently worked together and hurled both of their blades at the man. To the later’s credit, he managed to deflect most of the blows, but he no great warrior and was eventually ripped apart by the two children, flesh being mangled off by iron sharpened in the town.

Both panted as they realized the fight was over, but also fell onto their knees in pain from their respective injuries. Although Marcelus felt more immediate pain, he soon recognized Anri took a far worse blow and took off the helm.

His right temple was split open slightly, somehow now opening fully from the attack by the axe-wielder. He ripped off cloth from one of the deceased soldier and patched up his brother, the blood sticking to the newly added wool.

“Dear Naga!” cried out Marcelus. “How the living hell did we survive that?” Anri stayed silent, stilling trying to catch his bearings. The two remained still as they nearly fell upon the many bodies of their deceased friends, avoiding the dead with a passion.

“We have to get out of here now. Before their friends become wary of what happened.” The brothers attempted to walk towards their horses, but one of the beasts fled during combat, leaving only one mount left for two injured and possibly crippled boys.

“I really shouldn’t have let you join the fight with me,” Anri spoke sadly. Marcelus kept quiet as the two attempted to get onto the horses, but Marcelus struggled to even extend his legs thanks to the injury sustained in fight.

Then they suddenly turned behind them where a large detachment of horses came barreling towards them. They all were from Dolhr and many seemed angered at their actions, their faces full of contempt for the children who humiliated their allies.

The only thing Anri saw in his stupor was one of the men jumping off and whacking Marcelus in the face, knowing out the younger boy. Before he knew it, one of them ran up for him and slammed his foot to his bleeding temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: I have written Fire Emblem fanfiction in the past and many of you know if you followed me back then that I personally had issues with updating. Namely, I updated the wrong thing. Instead of new chapters, I consistently rewrote them. As such, I personally told myself I would only change things if the context made little to no sense or there are very apparent grammar issues.  
> As for the story, this chapter is mostly set-up for things to come. It has action, but many of the chapters will be more dialogue heavy. The amount of characters for the story will also be far less than actual Fire Emblem games as this is supposed to be the shortest of the possible series.  
> The Alteans here I based around those conquered by Rome and other empires of the period. They are the auxiliary and in history weren't seen as citizens or at least equal to Roman born men and women, but some soldiers were allowed to be legally citizens after many years of service. Here, they don't have that issue of being citizens, but they aren't equal to Archanean born men and women, so the military is a good area to raise one's social status.  
> The chapter is fairly short, but the later chapters should be far longer. All opinions on my work—positive or not—would be appreciated in the comments and reviews. For those who took the time of day to read my story, I thank you.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: This fanfiction will be updated every Monday until further notice. For more information, thoughts, and updates, please head to my main profile on Fanfiction.net and the Author's Notes at the bottom. Please enjoy the story.

Upon the day overtaking the once night covered lands did the young noble named Cartas decide that it was time for him to set out for his destination that he so delicately chose a month ago.

It had a been a long journey from riding from the southern coasts of Archanea all the way to the lands north of the colony of Aurelis, normally being a far shorter trip than a month's time, but the constant prodding by soldiers on who he was did make the trip unbearably slow.

His horse had finally finished grazing in the cold plains and was ready to make the trip. Looking at his horse, he knew that he would have to leave him behind before making the final trek across into northern territories. The frost and snow would likely kill the poor creature with grass and water becoming more difficult for one to find in the barren wastelands that await him, but if he was to obtain what he so desired, it would be a trip he would need to take.

Upon mounting his steed, the beast began to trot across the frost covered grass, shivering as the cold air descended upon the two. Despite many years of being stationed in the colony, he couldn't help but admit he felt more joy down south than he did living in the colony his father governed.

It wasn't the location of the colony that was a problem, but instead where he was now, the territories that were not conquered by the Holy Kingdom of Archanea during the period that it still existed in.

Fair weather was nonexistent and instead replaced with graceful snowfall and hail that could take a man's eye out without preparation. The difficult of finding game was also a problem as meat was one of the most common foods for one to lives in the wild to survive with as the plants that seemed edible were far from safe for consumption—something he found out at the age of fourteen as food rations ran dry that year.

That was some four years ago, however, and he did have a better chance of surviving the area more so than most others, being a member of the area for the entirety of the campaigns to subjugate any tribes that refused to swear fealty to the Holy Crown, who instead preferred pointing cold iron towards mesenggers in the act of war.

No matter how hard they fought, Cartas recalled how many generals failed to fight in the weather, succumbing to the climate as their men died of frostbite and other nasty conditions, eventually leading to retreats on a constant basis.

The periods of time that the land was no layered with frozen liquid, it instead was a field of mud, making the cavalry the Archaneans prized so much useless in the terrain, being bogged down as arrows were loosed into the bodies of many horsemen trying to escape the enemy infantry.

How fruitless those ventures had been. The noble could only sigh as he remembered how embittered his father had become upon realizing the dream of an Archanean north was foiled so quickly. He didn't lash it out on him, but he was not one to agitate.

As much as those memories were hard to remember, they also reminded him there was an opportunity in everything, no matter how dangerous it may be.

His journey across the snowy fields finally began to end upon spotting a small village—it resembled the ones he saw during the campaigns, but was definitely built with more wood than stone unlike the larger towns he besieged.

A large herd of goats was seen in the distance with a young girl herding them into a penned in area. She soon turned to face him and quickly ran into one of the buildings, probably to alert the populace that they had a visitor of all things.

Soon came out a large man wearing thick clothing and a metal breastplate, battle inflicted damage clearly indicating its history. It was not the only tool of war at his disposal for a bronze tipped spear, shining brighter than most iron weapons due to a well done polish, reached lengths that could take out his steed and himself with one strong stab—something he was sure the man was large enough to do.

Waving his hands as to indicate he was no threat, Cartas brought his mount to a halt, and dismounted. He grabbed the horse by its reigns and proceeded to approach the village with caution, noting to himself not to reach for his blade.

Some of the people, including the girl from earlier, were wary of him for some reason. Perhaps it was because he was the first foreigner they had seen in a while, but a part of him had a feeling they most likely seen some Dolhrian soldiers come into the area if rumors were to be believed, meaning this would be the worst time for any sort of foreigner be here in the land of the Northerners.

"Hello," he began the conversation calmly. "I know this quite rude of me to ask, but I require assistance in the form of shelter and food. I can pay for these things and I would like to house my steed here along with myself for the time being."

A small silence echoed throughout the village until the girl from earlier nudged the armed man on the arm. He seemed to respond to her presence with joy, for a small smile was born upon his head.

"An odd way for one to start conversation," the man responded to Cartas. "I'm guessing you're an Archanean man from the south. You seem to be wearing clothes of odd enough color to be as such."

The dark yellow clothing he wore was an odd sight, even for most Archaneans, for such a dye was uncommon with many, and most likely not a color seen on clothing for the Northerners who wore only fur to live in the cold.

Still, it was the color he and his father wore on a constant basis for their house sigil was that of the three stars—a symbol important for those of House Oriona and the entirety of the lands of Lefcandith, the duchy they ruled upon under the former jurisdiction of the Holy Crown.

A small smile grew on his own face as he thought of something to say. "Well, I cannot deny that it's not the best garments for the weather, but I personally like it enough. The name's Cartas of House Oriona. Hopefully you'll be more receptive of me than the other villages I passed through."

"Well, it depends on whether or not you're here to demand us to bow before your king once more. We don't particularly enjoy the concept of kneeling to some Southerner and I can't promise you that some of the men won't start something."

"And I don't blame or fault you," replied Cartas. "I can't deny I fought for my king for many years, trying to eliminate your people, and now find myself asking the same enemies for support in my own personal quest."

"And that being?" questioned the man, some other men armed with bronze weapons coming up to support him. They seemed to believe that their numbers would intimidate Cartas, but he knew they were not the most violent of folk—or at the least the tribes closest the Aurelis.

"I simply desire an army."

The man raised his eyebrows at the answer, but found himself unable to stop the noble from forcing himself into the small settlement of wooden houses, pushing past some men who tried to keep him back.

The girl and some others proceeded to get behind those armed with anything that can be classified as a weapon—axe, spear, or bow—with some taking up tools such as hoes and other farm tools to combat the invader.

Instead of unsheathing his sword, Cartas instead threw down his steel blade onto the ground to indicate he was no threat to them. He even took out the two daggers he kept on him at all times, and personally plunged the blade into the dirt with great strength, the blades sticking out along the grass.

A moment passed before the armed man and a few others chuckled at the display. "It seems you know you're outmatch at any rate."

"Well, you learn some things about the people you try to kill on a constant basis after a few months getting bored in the camps, one being that you can disembowel me within a second."

Cartas, despite the confidence he displayed, felt relief as the men decided he was no threat to them, allowing him to enter the village in open arms—the armed man even giving back the blade thrown at his feet with trust most would not have for other Archaneans or Southerners.

Some of the villagers were more suspicious of him, but the egging on by the men was enough to convince them to have trust in the warriors of their people.

And so did Cartas enter the village with a small smile as the first step in his grand scheme.

* * *

 

"To think the son of the former military governor we had fought so many years ago would be the one who would ask us to fight for him in some personal crusade…"

"It is a weird predicament," Cartas admitted, his voice a bit slurred by the food in his mouth. "But I cannot deny that when I fought against you did we struggle to gain any victories. Perhaps it was just bad planning on our side, but you guys came out of the blizzard as if phantoms arrived to take us to the next world, never taking part in any large battles with us. That skill is something I need."

The once armed man—the son of one of the chiefs who was granted the name Beotian the Younger—stayed silent as he and his guest consumed the food his daughter—the girl from earlier—prepared for them as they discussed the noble's request.

"I can say that I can give you the shelter and food," began Beotian. "But no matter how you word it, I cannot proclaim to the village or some of the chiefs of both this and the other settlements to create a new army for our former enemy. You can't expect such a response to be taken up seriously."

"Can you at least point me towards somewhere that has men who die for me then?" asked Cartas, but found himself without an answer, much to his disappointment. "I really don't want to admit to myself that I came here for no reason. It took me a month to get here from the southern coast, and to end up empty handed is a bit much."

"Your father is the ruler of a place known as Lefcandith, correct? I know of some of the places in Archanea, and that is not the most southern land I know of. Why would you be so south if you come from there?"

"The war against Dolhr," stated Cartas without hesitation. "We thought it would be a good idea to bring troops from Aurelis to help with the defenses, but found ourselves too late to save anyone. Supposedly the royal family fled to Aurelis with an army of sixty thousand, but the place is now in Dolhrian hands, and I rather not think what had happened since we were gone."

Beotian asked if he asked anyone in the area what had occurred, but was met with the answer that there was no one in the vicinity—none in the villages nor any soldiers around. No bodies, only signs of a struggle. Just an empty town with Dolhrian soldiers residing in it.

It was a baffling thought, but Cartas knew that they had to be captured, or something on the likes of that—there was no way the Dolhrians could or would kill so many as it would have no benefit for them in the long run. Yet nothing explained how could so many disappear without signs of large scale battles in the local area. Where were the soldiers? It was something that plagued him, but he shook away such thoughts in favor of trying again for the acquisition of men.

Once more was he repelled off by the man no matter how hard he pleaded. Deciding that the conversation was over between them, both silently consumed their warm meals with slight the tension between the two of them slowly faded.

Cartas—for everything that had happened—couldn't help but admit that at the very least the people here were kind enough to hear him out at the very least. Even the food made by the daughter was quite the meal for a girl who seemed to be his junior by a fair amount of years, the hearty meal filling him up after weeks of stale bread and other rations.

Feeling a bit calmer, he excused himself from the building and left for outside, deciding that it would be best for him to get some time alone to contemplate what to do now.

What he desired to do with an army was not for them to know, and if they were to know would they reject his advances even more, for it was not a reason they had any connection to whatsoever, something they couldn't become personally motivated to die for.

Speaking of connections, he could've sworn they would have heard of the Dolhrian occupation, but it seemed that the place was so isolated from the rest of the world that they had not heard of the conquest by those even further south than the Archaneans. They had never heard of the Emperor of the Manaketes beforehand, and seemed to be a bit happy upon hearing their foes were no more, albeit seemingly away from Cartas' ears, but he heard them nonetheless, and tried to not fault them as much, though it pained him to hear their praises.

Still, the men who went south with to originally to do battle decided to split apart and return home, something he couldn't do for reasons unknown to all but himself. There was something he had to accomplish first, and an army was the first step in doing so.

Perhaps he was a bit rash, however. He had only known of their ability in combat thanks to his own experiences, but it may be that they won thanks to knowing their home a bit better than he and the rest, only winning victory thanks to the weather rather than martial skill.

Yet anything would suffice for him. He even thought about going to the Altean Islands to see if he could convince his uncle—Bryan, the military governor of the territory—to relinquish some natives to fight for him, before remembering that the Dolhrians would most likely head there to remove themselves of any escape routes for the royal family.

It was a shame, for the Altean men were noted to be incredible swordsmen if the writings of the wars for the islands was to be believed in fullest—men who while lacked the complexity of the Archanean military system, made up for that flaw with martial skill surpassing any other, wielding longer blades than all others as well.

He had also heard of two brothers whose names he could not recall from his uncle. They supposedly had great skill despite their age being less than his own by at least a year, but they showed promise that most others lacked along with diligence, or at least the eldest brother seemingly had. He also heard that said brother was also an odd one, speaking most eloquently than most men in the pursuit of becoming something of a noble by becoming an equite, a rank that he himself held for a brief time, one most never would reach in a lifetime for the merit that it required along with a few other prerequisites.

One was the knowledge of the basic laws of the state, and, most importantly, admission of oneself to become a citizen of a city on the mainland, something that cost so much coin it would be impossible for the average Altean to even achieve obtaining in terms of wealth.

He couldn't help but pity the soul he had never been introduced to formally, as his dream was one to never be achieved, especially as the Dolhrians now held reign over the once grand kingdom.

"Perhaps he died with glory," optimistically thought Cartas as he sat by his lonesome on top of a hill overlooking the small village. He felt the breeze go through his blonde hair, small clusters hitting his eyes as he stared blankly at nothing.

"Um… May I be of assistance?"

The voice was unfamiliar to Cartas, but upon turning to face the originator of the voice did he see a pretty face of a girl younger than he who he was acquainted with.

"No, it is alright," said Cartas. "If your father asked you to check up on me, don't worry. I have no intentions of being mad at him. He has his reasons and I was a fool thinking I could request such of thing after so many years of conflict between our people."

"NO!" suddenly erupted the girl. She fell quiet out of embarrassment upon realizing how loud she became. "Uh, no… He did not ask me to do such a thing."

"Then why are you here then," asked Cartas in confusion. The girl stayed silent once more, her shy character keeping her from speaking any words. She even resorted to looking away to keep herself composed, a little trait he had to admit was a bit adorable as it was pitiful.

Getting a better look at the girl while she was in the middle of processing what to say, Cartas found that she was undeniably shorter than he by a great amount, being slightly taller than a prepubescent child in height, but with some development, albeit smaller than most, which indicated her true age. Her long hair of auburn color reached down to her waist with large eyes of crimson color that were without any wrinkles, indicating she slept better than at any rate. Her skin was incredibly pale in comparison thanks to the lack of sunlight in the area along with the amount of layers she and the rest of the villagers worn to avoid death by frostbite.

He estimated that she could be no older than sixteen and no younger than twelve, but seemed to walk without grace or conviction, her movement cluttered with worry and hesitance which gave way the impression she was afraid to even engage conversation.

She finally snapped out of her stupor, giving Cartas the knowledge that she was finally done thinking as to how she should converse with him while a part of him was wondering if he should stick around a bit longer to help the poor girl learn how to talk to with others, but tried to think less degrading thoughts of the locals afterwards.

"I came here to tell you that there was someone with great ability in fighting arrived two weeks ago in chains who was purchased by one of the more violent chiefs to the west."

"You don't say…" muttered Cartas with interest. He knew there were other villages, but if there were local wars taking place, the concept of finding men suitable for combat may not be so hard to find. "May I ask what village this chief rules over? To the west perhaps?"

"Uh… He should be in Wych, which is east, but it could also be Lesja which is a bit further east, or even the town of Lindel to the north if that plot to overthrow him went well…"

"I'm guessing he's not very well received in these parts then," Cartas sighed. "If the swordsman was purchased by him as a servant though, how would this information help me? You could've just said that he had soldiers by his side."

"Well, I thought it would help you find out who can sell you men to fight your wars," answered the girl a tad bit more confidently this time. "I mean, you know how one can learn from another and—"

"You think that chief can help me find a way to get more men for my cause?"

"Exactly!" she exclaimed with a small smile. "I-I mean we have many warriors hired to serve the more noble households until they pass, so it wouldn't be too hard of someone with your wealth to buy such a force."

"What, like mercenaries?" questioned Cartas, intrigued as to what sort of men she was talking about.

"No, slaves," she said as if it was a matter of fact. "Why, do you not have slaves in the Holy Kingdom?"

"Oh," Cartas replied surprised. "Uh, I don't know what it's like here, but in Archanea, we have been phasing that concept out for a while now—better if we work our own fields rather than have slaves take over the jobs were need to do—not to mention the resentment they feel which escalates into revolt. No fun really if anyone becomes agitated, albeit there are some smarter owners who know just how to please them, but for the most part we've seen a tad bit too much bloodshed for the concept to be popular anymore."

"I don't think it's the same as the system you used," interjected the girl. "Slaves are seen in high regard—they symbolize wealth—and are given good lives if you ask me. Better than what I have at least."

"I question that, really I do," frowned Cartas. "Look, even if they won't grow traitorous or dissatisfied under my ownership, why don't I just go hire men myself rather than ask the chief how to hire? Seems to be a waste of time if you ask me. It's not like it's the first time I had to rally up men to a cause before."

"Oh, well most slaves aren't fighters, but the swordsman was brought here by soldiers with weird scaly armor. They probably—"

"The goddamn Dolhrians," groaned Cartas. The girl looked at him confused for a moment before remembering the conversation from earlier, and slowly realized her mistake.

"Why do they have to be here," moaned the noble, shaking his head as his grand plan had become even more impossible by the second. He really should have just found other Archaneans willing to fight, but no, he instead had to go and decide Northerners were his best hope.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think…" She looked away, embarrassed that she even brought up the idea in the first place. The girl began to speak out how stupid she was, causing the hatred that came out of his mouth slowly die off.

Cartas took a deep breath to calm his nerves. "It's not your fault. Your father didn't seem to know who they were to begin with, so I highly doubt that you even knew from the start. Still though, I can't deny this is just what I needed."

"I mean," Cartas began once more. "I came here to get away from Dolhrian presence to begin with, and now I find the farthest reaches of this world not far enough to escape their armies. Here was a place that I came to because I believed there would be men willing to fight simply because they would not know who the Dolhrians are, which was confirmed by your father supposedly, and still did that plan fail."

"Even if your plan didn't involve those men of the south in any way, we wouldn't really know who that person is," asserted the noble. He simply stared out once more, realizing his plan was both a senseless and fruitless effort. "I mean, do you know what he and his employer look like… Uh…"

"Holle," she answered quietly, giving him the answer he should've asked for earlier. "Well, he supposedly has blue hair that's long enough to reach halfway down his back similar to mine. He carries a long sword which seemed impractical to use according to one of the neighboring warriors, and seemed to be my age, although was said to be pretty muscular despite being so young."

"The chief on the other hand is a bit of a different sort. He's about the size of my father, but is not some slob if you thought that was the case. He's actually kind of, well, not bad looking. I mean, it's not like I find him attractive or anything, but he kind of looks like…"

She paused, as if entranced by something. She pointed her finger towards the village where he gaze was locked onto something. "Him," she proclaimed. Cartas tried to find where she was looking at, staring towards the location that her finger pointed to. He stood up from his position on the ground to get a better look, spotting just who she indicating.

A man that seemed to be rather youthful compared to one of the chiefs he seen earlier that wore what seemed to be bronze scale armor walked down the pathway to the settlement with a rather large group at his back, walking down as if they were there to conquer. Holle seemed to become somewhat shaken by the amount of men, but composed herself as the noble took steps towards the ledge.

"Well would you look at that," Cartas said as he walked forward, intrigued by the opportunity given to him. "Perhaps your plan may or may not have some merit after all."

He rushed down the hill with Holle by his side. The speed that he went was not so great as if he was in a sprint, but rather a light jog as a part of him was a bit suspicious as to why he would bring so many men with him, especially as they seemed not to be some random villagers the closer he got, so did he try to keep himself inconspicuous to avoid attention.

By the time they got close enough to hear the faint sounds of conversation, he saw a group of at least three dozen warriors by the chief's side, each armed with their own individual armament that set them apart from the rest. It was a fascinating sight, but a terrifying one as Cartas realized they were not here for any diplomatic reasons except for a conflict of some kind.

The two tried to get a better look as to what was going on, but heard faintly the voice of Beotian walking down towards the man with a large group of men himself. All of them were armed with some sort of weapon themselves, causing Cartas to panic internally, screaming to himself that of course a battle would take place the very same village he arrived at, on the first day as well.

Both sides lined up against one another as if they were preparing for a war with each other. The fear that Cartas felt now spread to Holle, the girl watching the scene anxiously. He could hear here mumble some sort of prayer as the events unfolded in front of them.

Deciding it would've been better if he stayed on the cliff, Cartas attempted to sneak off into the village, but the noise of one of the men from the foreign chief's group moving forward caught his attention as he advanced on Beotian's position.

A silence emerged as the warrior—a giant of a man who was armed to the teeth with equipment for killing—shoved his spear into the Beotian's gut, punching a hole into his armor—the older man falling onto the ground as both he and the villagers watched without noise.

Holle became dead silent as the two watched from a distance the man unsheathing his own sword. They couldn't make out what he was saying, but Cartas took out his sword in preparation for what was to come, pushing down the younger girl into snow to hide her.

He looked around the group to see if the boy she mentioned earlier was among them, but no blue hair swordsman was in their ranks, instead all the men having auburn hair that most Northerners possessed. Perhaps he was left behind, but he soon spotted a dastardly scar on the face of the chief, giving him the impression he needed to know just what had happened.

"Is my father alright?" Holle asked Cartas while she was still in the cover of snow. He looked towards the body and saw the man getting up, meaning that only the armor was damaged and that the man wasn't in death's grasp just yet, although a part of him was pondering whether or not they were nearing it by the second.

"I think things will be alright if... What the?" He grabbed the girl's hand as he led her into the village with him, trying to avoid attention on both sides. What he saw was both reassuring and downright petrifying if things go sour with the men.

"What happened?" she questioned as she was dragged away by the noble, trying to not fall over as he entered her home through a back entrance, entering the wooden home. A small fire was still lit, keeping the inside of the building warmer than outside. Next to it was a handful of things—a feel bowls, spoons, firewood, and the steel breastplate Cartas left behind.

He motioned for his female companion to help him put on the piece of apparel. She tried to help him into the armor, struggling to tie one of the straps of the outfit. As she continued to help him into his breastplate, a shout alerted them that things seemed to be getting worse.

"Okay, so they seem to have a writ, which means now it is time for me to leave this village immediately. I'll hop on my horse and no longer shall I bother you people for the remainder of our days."

"Writ?"

"Oh, you don't know," he responded as he hurried out of the building and walked towards his horse, the animal shivering in the cold. He wasn't expecting him to be so cold, but reassured his animal partner they would be leaving soon.

"It's something that means I'm on trial by the Senate of the Pales," Cartas answered, trying to keep himself from giving away what his plan was. "Now, I haven't broken any laws technically, but the only reason such a document would be in their hands is if the Dolhrians are hunting down every high positioned man and woman, which means that by their law I am now an outcast, something I kinda was already so that's not too bad, but now they're here hiring you Northerners, meaning if I stay around, things will go bad very quickly."

"W-We'll be okay, right?" Cartas nodded as he led his horse away from the area, hoping to escape from the back of the village. "You'll be alive if I leave this instant. It's a shame that I have to leave you considerate folk, but the time of your death is not today, so this is farewell."

"I pray for your safety," he told the girl. "We've known one another for only a few hours, but tell your father he's a good man and not to associate the village with any Archaneans for a while, alright. Now I'm going to get their attention to get them off of your back, and when I do, I need you to—"

Cartas felt his cheek grazed by some projectile as he spoke before hearing his horse neigh its last noise, falling onto the ground with a javelin sticking out of the back of its head, the the pole sticking out between its eyes.

Both he and Holle turned to face the man who attacked her father earlier with another javelin in hand. Before he could hurl it towards them, Holle jumped onto Cartas, saving him from death as the javelin flew over their bodies.

The two bolted in the opposite direction from the man as both seemingly agreed to one another silently that it was a losing battle against the man who could pierce through plate with a single stab of a spear. It didn't help that man was a literal mountain, towering over everyone the noble could think of in both recent and distant memory.

He tried to see what had happened to allow the man to reach them, but saw the entirety of the villagers simply watching from the ground as the invading chief smirked at him, sending more of his men after the two. He saw Beotian also captured as if the entirety of the village and its warriors decided to surrender on the spot, something that became apparent as all their weapons were confiscated by the foreign natives.

"Okay, change in plans," he told Holle as they fled. "It seems that your people will be alive at the very least, but I can't say the same for you if they're hurling spears at us, so for now you're with me. Not my choice in travelling companion admittedly—I really wanted a fighter—but like I said, the day you die is not now."

He heard no response from her, but the fact she was still keeping up with him gave way the answer. And so did they run with a half a dozen men after the two of them, dodging incoming projectiles as they began to reach a small forest, but the speed that their pursuers ran at was enough to give way to the notion that they weren't going to make it.

"Another change in plans then," he begrudgingly remarked. "Keep running and I'll see you soon."

The girl turned around to ask what did he mean by that statement, but found him standing his ground against the large group by his lonesome with sword in hand to defend himself with. She called out for him to run, but knew he was not going to listen.

As Cartas steeled himself for the ordeal, he felt the presence of someone by his side. "Dammit, in the stories this where the hero dies to give the others the chance to win victory another day, not die in a vain attempt while his friends act like idiots."

"I'm shy, not a coward," Holle replied blankly, picking up a javelin to use herself. She lacked the form of someone with actual experience with it, but one look into her eyes showed a fire not there beforehand. He laughed as he thought to himself how odd of thing it was for him to die side by side with his former enemy.

The warriors didn't jeer at them like he expected, but instead looked at them with pity, the men trying to convince them to lay down their weapons, but before Cartas give an answer, Holle simply shook her head, seemingly more afraid to talk rather than die.

"Why is that the weirdest thing to happen to me today?" thought Cartas as he a small smile stayed on his face. He had to admit she was an odd one, but not the worst person he had met in his lifetime. "Perhaps we would've been friends in the Holy Dragon had permitted it."

Before anyone could initiate the fight with one another, the sounds of screaming of men caught all of them off guard. They turned towards the main group to see men up in arms about something, screaming bloody murder as some of the villagers started to fight back. Even the chief attempted to back away from something, but from the distance and the sheer amount of bodies was it difficult to figure out what they were afraid of.

But soldiers seemed to know just who it was and abandoned their job of killing them, arguing they didn't want to die that day against him, crying out that their chief had already once been the one to pay for insulting him, giving the two the answer as the what was going on.

It was clear that it wasn't only one person doing the damage, but instead a group of men that attacked as the amount of people swinging weapons at the start was too great for a single person to fight all at once, but still did they only cry out that it was a single person they were afraid of—one boy who they were afraid of.

"Well Holle," Cartas shook his head. "It seems you've lied to me. You said he was a great swordsman, not a god of war."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter is not so action packed as I prefer to think of Cartas as a man who acts with caution more so than bravery or honor, trying to be an ethical and moral man in a world that slowly is becoming more ruthless as the wars become bloodier and bloodier. How he would fair in a fight is yet to be seen, but will be seen soon enough.  
> The Northerners are based around a fair number of tribes the Romans attempted to subjugate, namely the ones in Gaul and Britannia, but there are no chariots or horses here for the cold climate makes it difficult to bring them to the more populated areas, not to mention most didn't live in climates like this. Also, many of them in real life did have tactical and strategical ability as they won many battles against the Italian men, but here they haven't formed any large scale groups, meaning such organization or social structure have no formed yet unless in times of desperation, albeit there never being a largescale battle between the Northerners and Archaneans yet in the history of this world to show off any real tactical prowess, instead most fights being guerilla raids.  
> Know that if there's anything about the story that doesn't make sense or wasn't explained well, I'll try to answer those questions if they won't appear in future chapters. Know that the basic plot, twists, and character arcs are mostly prewritten, so some questions will not be answered.  
> The next update will be on Monday for sure next time with a fourth chapter on Wednesday or Friday next week for both this story and They Who Commune With Ghosts, for I do feel bad missing out on the deadline on the second update of all things. Makes me feel like I'm not committed to these stories, but sometimes life and mistakes on my part hinder the writing progress. For those who took the time of day to read my story, I thank you.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story Notes: This fanfiction will be updated every Monday and Friday. For more information, thoughts, and updates, please head to my main profile on Fanfiction.net and the Author’s Notes on the bottom. Please enjoy the story.

After the day was won, the Altean found himself more annoyed than he felt victorious after the fighting was said and done.

Even after slaying his former owner did he not feel much joy, instead becoming agitated upon the prodding of a certain Archanean with the desire to recruit him for a cause he had no part of.

It had taken a while for Anri to convince the son of the duke to leave him be that night which eventually had results, but a part of him was still a little irritated over the conversation from earlier that the latter brought up.

“A bit of common sense would help him,” Anri muttered to himself. The night sky in the far north was a different sight than the one back in the islands, the stars shining brighter and the lack of clouds allowing a far more colorful painting for the eyes to gaze upon.

One thing he didn’t enjoy was the freezing temperatures, but given the fact that he had only seen snow once or twice every year, it may have been more of a dislike due to unfamiliarity. Still, he made sure that the number of layers he wore was enough to keep him from freezing to death as he currently carried with him four layers of fur clothing.

He clutched them closely to himself as he continued to watch the celestial bodies in the night sky. He smiled as he saw some familiar constellations that his younger brother would always bring up as the subject of the Heavens was something Marcelus found respect for compared to other subjects, including his own military career.

“I wonder where you are little brother…”

“Little brother?”

Anri became tense at the subject and looked for who heard him speak to himself, but found only a short girl with auburn hair and an expression of recoil.

“Hmm, what does a girl of this frozen village want out this fool of Altea?” Anri asked Holle as she walked up towards him. The shy girl took a few seconds to think of something to respond with, but decided against saying anything.

He took notice of this level of social ability as it was mentioned beforehand by one of them men who lived here. He had thought she was a more bashful type, standing her ground alongside Cartas earlier when his men arrived at the scene of the battle, but this was the last characteristic he would’ve guessed she was most known as.

It wasn’t as if she was completely lacking the ability to socialize, for she did come up to him without too much complaint hypothetically, but she didn’t seem comfortable at times, her voice already shaking when she asked about his family.

He continued to watch aimless towards that which laid above, the girl of the village seemingly taking notice of his pastime. She decided to also watch the stars, trying to see which ones he was looking at.

“Beautiful they are,” suggested Anri. “The great bodies of the Heavens simply enlighten us mortals who shall all return to the dirt beneath our feet. For example, the woman who sits upon the stone gives way to many a tale.”

“Lady Huldra,” she noted as she stared at one of the largest constellations in the night sky. “Do you know the tale of her? A great lady she was and an inspiration for all women.”

“No, the constellation to us is referred to by the title of The Maiden Bare,” Anri said. “The wife of a chief who conquered the Island of Gra, becoming the strongest of them all, but she was of a different sort compared to other wives.”

“What do you mean?” asked Holle. “Was she more loyal or brave? A courageous person?”

No, she is hailed as an evil seductress who stabbed to death her husband in a fit of rage over events I can’t deny differ from place to place, my home stating she was angered by the loss of land, and had her body bared to the world as punishment before execution by means that also differ from place to place.”

“Well, that’s not what I was expecting,” Holle winced, who seemed to not have been prepared for such a tale. “Lady Huldra is stated to be the best of all the wives amongst our ancestors with beauty unmatched by any. She stood tall when the Scaled Ones came sprinting across the lands, having the strength of a man and the wit of a woman, killing them all by herself with a spear of silver.”

“Scaled Ones? What, like dragons or Manaketes? Or did they not breathe death upon their foes?

“Breathe? No, they only ripped apart flesh, not breathe some lethal substance.”

“I see,” took in Anri. “Well, we’re not here to discuss how my people have such a disgusting tale of your brave hero. You’re here to bring about a question for me, stemming from the roots called Cartas if I may guess.”

“Oh!” She hesitated to ask her question, but Anri gave her a look to calm herself. “Well, he asks if you will fight for him in the conquest of… Liefcanith?”

“Lefcandith, the valley land,” Anri corrected her. “I told him once that I refuse to die for such a thing when I have my own personal journey to complete. Let him know that until the Sun sets for my tale, I boldly tell him to fight his own war against the Dolhrians.”

“C-Can I ask why?” Holle questioned the Altean soldier, but a sharp look given to her gave way that he was not in the mood for such things. Anri, upon seeing her fear, restrained himself and took in a deep breath. He thought for a moment before standing up to face her.

She leaned back when he became awfully close to her, but found herself locked in place as he simply stood in front of her. He looked back up to the constellations and turned his gaze onto one in particular.

“The Young Wanderer, a boy who died amid his pilgrimage in life, dying because he had no focus in life. My younger brother would remark he was the same and would end the same, but I wanted to reassure him we had a future in the cities of the eastern shore, but now he’s no longer here—not dead but gone.”

“He is gone because I failed to protect him,” he said, his voice become slightly unsteady as he continued. “Yes, he was old enough to fight the battles he was told to die for, but as the fool who allowed him to become a servant for the Empire like myself, I can’t deny it pains me to say I need men myself.”

“You were a slave to the Dolhrians?” she questioned abruptly. “Can-Can you tell me what it was like? Cartas mentioned he saw slavery as a bad thing, but here we the practice is one of respect and wealth.”

“For a slaver in the South, yes, but the slaves have no love unlike here. Our worlds are too different. You don’t have the cities needed to be built by men, no fields to have them work upon, too great of a burden to fight against.”

“Is there still slavery down south in Archanea, though?”

“Of course, in some respects,” answered Anri. “The concept has plummeted in usage over the years, but there are still some duchies that refuse to change their ways. Even there, though, the sheer amount of blood spilled is keeping it from regaining the influence it held not too long ago, which allowed my people to not become that of bondage. Now with the Dolhrians on the other hand, that’s another tale.”

The two remained silent as they continued their watch of the night sky. The Wanderer was above The Maiden Bare, or Lady Huldra, seemingly pointing towards the earth with his arm, trying to grasp that which was beneath him.

“North,” Anri said after the moment of silence passed. “We were taken north to begin with, and I was separated when I was sold off, meaning they’re further north.”

“Lady Huldra shows the path north,” realized Holle. “I guess that’s where you were heading before saving us? Why you were bringing up your… brother.”

“I didn’t save you,” interjected Anri hastily. “The men who follow me saved your village along with yourself, and, admittedly, the noble. But yes, I’m heading north after the night becomes morn. I was in the possession of that Chief of Wych—Grendel I believe his name was—for at least a week, so the direction is the only indication of where he is now.”

“Well, I hope you find him, but I don’t think that’s where Cartas wants you to go.”

“No,” admitted Anri. “He won’t head towards a place where it is too far from home. It is why he will head for Altea and I to the north, our journeys separate ones.”

Before Holle could say her goodbyes, she felt a tinge of embarrassment upon Anri gripping onto her hand. She looked towards him for some answers, but the look on his face was one of contempt and regret.

“Can you tell me if there is anyone here that knows where the town of Lindel? The soldiers who brought us north were deserters and heard of the settlement from whispers of various supporters. It could possibly lead me to my brother if I was to know the path.”

“Uh, sorry, but I’ve only heard of the place myself. My father may be able to help you, but he’s—”

Anri nodded in understanding before deciding to leave his position upon the hillside. “I best get going to the Archanean noble now. If I’m to convince him to allow myself to leave the service of our nation for my own personal crusade, I need to speak will him this instant.”

* * *

 

“Is it bad that I originally thought you were going to simply ignore my call?”

“No, you were right to think I wouldn’t have shown up, but I can’t deny that sending that girl may have convinced me otherwise.”

“In what way?” Cartas questioned the Altean in the room. The two took a sip of a local drink of the area, the alcoholic content being quite low compared to the drinks they were used to. “Holle seems nice enough, but I only sent her because I had my own questions for her poor father.”

“Yes, I’ve seen his condition,” Anri replied regrettably. “I do apologize for not arriving in time, but we were not expecting him to do such a bold move so suddenly that Grendel. We had escaped him, but agreed upon taking him and the rest of his more loyal band out a few days before, but we hadn’t anticipated him going for your head.”

“How did he have a writ for my head?” asked Cartas to Anri with curiosity. “I didn’t know any Dolhrians were setting up any diplomatic relations with the native Northerners. Was this common behavior so some of the leaders around here to work alongside them?”

“No, I can guarantee you that foolish chief had desired to bring about wealth for himself only and took up the bounty given to him by my captors—all of whom were traitors to Dolhr, meaning they had given it to him in the hopes they would rid themselves of any potential enemies.”

“That doesn’t surprise me nearly as much as I thought it would, but I guess even they lack the number of zealots needed for an unyielding army.”

A sudden thought came to Cartas as he began to realize the circumstances behind the statement. He pondered this for a moment as Anri simply watched his contemporary in question.

“May I question what is it that captivates you?”

“How many were there?” he finally exclaimed. “Just how many of these supposed traitors were there? If there’s a chance they simply don’t desire to fight against us, they could prove useful.”

Anri frowned at the idea, but tried to compose himself in front of the son of the duke. “I’m afraid to admit that they weren’t that type, similar to how Grendel was. If they were the ones who arrived here, the results would not be any different.”

“But even so, if the group is large enough, they could prove advantageous,” objected Cartas, a small smile now on his face. “If we can manipulate them, we could possibly have a small little band to terrorize the Dolhrian forces.”

“Fifty soldiers will not do nearly the amount of damage you so desire,” Anri began, but a small smile also appeared on him. “I cannot deny that they could do some things, however, but so long as they technically have my brother for all I know, I cannot do such a thing.”

“Brother,” muttered Cartas in confusion, a look of dismay on his face creating interest in Anri. “Your brother is with them? Don’t tell me it was that supposed slacker who supposed held enough talent to make up for it?”

Anri looked in him with surprise, but realized who he was talking to. He admitted his brother being in their hands if he was correct that they failed to find someone to sell him off to, or at least knew where he was, leaving Cartas silent.

The lack of noise between the duo became somewhat unbearable as the noble simply returned to his own mind, leaving the Altean to his own.

In this silence did they fail to recognize that Beotian had entered the room, being walked over to their position by his daughter as they saw the two former soldiers secluded in their individual thoughts.

“Why is it so silent here?” he called out to the two, snapping them out of their stupor. Anri kept his eyes closed to continue thinking to himself, but Cartas had remembered that he had called him originally and stared back at Anri.

“I know what it’s like to not know if your brother is in harm’s way or not,” admitted Cartas to Anri, catching the latter’s attention. “To claim that my situation is the same as yours would be a false one, for we have own ways of coping with things, but my own desire to bring about a force to Lefcandith is awfully similar to your own.”

“Let me guess, a little brother is held hostage by Dolhrians?”

“Archaneans.”

Eyes were raised in this answer, but Cartas continued. “My household—House Oriona—can be said to be the second most powerful house in all of the Holy Kingdom except for the royal family—House Genisis—having control over Lefcandith, Aurelis, and the Altean Islands. What happens when others see our fame, glory, and wealth? What happens?”

“Jealously brings about the worst of man, but gluttony brings about a solution for them.”

“Very cryptic, but true. If you truly want to head north for your brother, perhaps I may let you go for I sympathize with you greatly, but I know that I need to head south now, so if I can’t have you, I need your soldiers.”

“I beg your pardon!” shouted Anri in bafflement, trying to figure out just where this came from. “Look, I’m going against a fairly large group of deserters in a town northward of here. I have eight men only, losing more would be suicide.”

“You held you own,” objected Cartas, but Anri simply shook his head, refusing to budge on this proposition given to him by the boy slightly older than he by three years—possibly two for he had forgotten his own date of birth.

Anri argued, “I was only called the one who did the work then. The truth is that those men of mine fought the main fight, and four of them perished with their lives that day. They should be the ones who are awarded for the feat, not I. And it is because of their skill that I need them.”

“I promise you great rewards if you relinquish them to me. My uncle noted how you desired to be a part of the equites—citizen cavalry with high rank in society—but I can do you one better and make you a part of my war council, mean you would have a great position in society far beyond the goal you originally set out to become.”

“Too great of reward for loyalty,” called out Anri with skepticism. “If I was to do such a thing, there has to be catch for a reward as great as that for the simple price of eight warriors, even if they are the greatest I’ve seen.”

“I’ve seen a bit of your fight earlier,” Cartas said. “No matter how you put it, most obvious to all was that in that battle of ours did you shine the brightest among every person with a weapon to kill, slaying men left and right. In fact, you’re even better than I anticipated.”

“I took out twelve who were looking the other way. Even so, to put me in a war council is one of great respect, but one of also false generosity. It cannot be achieved without giving you something in return—whether it results or future debts needing to be done and over with.”

“The men you have are men I desperately need. Eight they may sum, more will join upon seeing men of such stature amongst my ranks when I visit other villages to find volunteers. The fact that they chose to follow you for what I assume is thanks to your fighting ability means your word is law to them in a sense. Where else am I supposed to go to find soldiers not in Dolhrian hands?”

“There must be more men here in the villages for you to find. In fact, if you came here anyways to get men, why don’t you help me first and I’ll see if I can convince them later for your own crusade.”

“Not possible,” quietly admitted Cartas, a look of frustration emerging on his face as the words came out. “I hate the say it, but I kind of have a time limit on this quest of mine. Let’s just say that if it took me a solid month to get from the southern coast to here on horseback, who knows how long it will be to get to my home on foot.”

Anri responded, “You know the valley is not too far from here,” a look of anger on his face. “Two weeks at best it would take to march. The lack of fighting men willing to die in the former kingdom is why you’re here, so why can’t you spare the time to help me out?”

“Because it’s a fool’s quest until I know for sure it can be accomplished within my deadline—which is around a month or so—meaning if we don’t find your brother, my own will perish.”

“Why would there be a time limit of all things? Actually, never mind that, why will he perish? What benefit can there be for killing a noble of such a glorious household?”

“The same reason you fought in the first place.”

The two paused at that moment as they glared at one another. Beotian and Holle were tempted to intervene, but a sigh from both parties kept their mouths shut for the remaining duration of the conversation.

“You know this is a pointless endeavor,” Anri suggested to his counterpart. “We’re fighting over something that can be negotiated and our minds are simply clouded in anxiousness.”

“True enough,” said the other. “Perhaps there is a way for us to achieve both in the time required, but our brothers are in the literal opposite directions, and to say either will be a simple task is a fool’s statement. Perhaps if I had more time I would assist you, but I must apologize for my lack of cooperation.”

“Same from this foolish brother.”

“I guess this went nowhere then,” Beotian finally spoke out. “Well, to say that the two of you helped us would be failing to understand what you did for us—you Cartas for protecting my daughter and standing your ground, and you Altean for leading the charge against your former master and slaying the giant who nearly took my life.”

“Slaying is a false statement, given the fact that he still breathes.”

Beotian agreed silently as his gaze turned outside. The giant spear wielder was most definitely not one to go down easily, for even with Anri’s martial skill did he struggle against him.

The Altean remembered as his blade collided with his spear multiple times. The armor was difficult to pierce, but he did get a stab into the right abdomen, but it failed to kill him, only slowing him down.

It was Cartas who jumped on his back, forcing the man onto the ground when Beotian stabbed him with one of the weapons from the fallen followers of Grendel, allowing the villagers to capture the man and have him act as their prisoner in one of the more ruining houses.

They had wondered what to do with him, but it was decided that although he started the battle, he did spare Beotian—an act that Anri admitted was odd in the short amount of time he was the property of the Chief of Wych.

“Well, at any rate, can I give my own advice on the matter then?” Beotian asked the two to which the response was a yes. “The two of you have lives ahead of you that involve defeating the Dolhrian enemy, but so long as your brothers are in the hands of the enemy shall you not be able to defeat them.”

“So then, leave Anri’s brother to us and the two of you head down south to free Cartas’ homeland.”

The two boys turned to one another and simply stared at the man. A look of pity and discontent was all Beotian saw before Holle simply slapped her father, knocking the somewhat hurt man to the ground.

“I’m sorry father!” Holle proclaimed to the man on the ground. “But I must ask you not to do such things in your condition. I mean, must one truly question such an idea?”

“One could question your character,” remarked Anri. “Is it me, or is she awfully inconsistent, fighting against her own father and the enemy raiders, while simultaneously taking a century to process a single though? Perhaps she is too cautious.”

“No, that’s not it,” objected Cartas to Anri’s statement. “When I first came here did she cower away from me when I met with her father, and when one of your younger lads came for her hand in celebration did she melt like snow under the sun—she is a weird one to say the very least.”

“Well I haven’t seen any such events so far, so can I say that I doubt you?”

“Yeah, she definitely seems to change social behavior at random at times. Perhaps—”

“Uh, can you not talk about me like that,” she said with a slightly hurt voice. “At any rate, father, it is the right thing to do, but you cannot expect yourself to go hunting for Anri’s brother?”

“I never said such things,” Beotian complained to his daughter. “We have more than a good amount of men and some women who can get more supporters from the other villages—including Wych now that Grendel is gone. With those numbers, we can beat the any force that holds the brother, and I can say for a fact that some more enthusiastic youths here are more than willing to take the fight against men who defeated our former enemies.”

“But they would be craving glory, not justice,” argued Anri. “One can ask for gold and silver after the fighting is said and done, but I cannot give you or those boys any coin after everything is completed. I only lead those eight men because they swore themselves loyal for helping them find independence, not for wealth.”

“Speaking of wealth, my original idea was to hire men to fight for my cause, but at the expense of many lives,” silently confessed Cartas. “I was hoping many would die in the attempt to take back my home, but you’ve been pretty kind to me, so it is safe to say my strategy needs tweaking. By all accounts I wouldn’t be able to even pay twenty men in full until the treasury is seized back, something I have a feeling will not happen any day now.”

The two Northerners stared at Cartas with surprise, but Holle simply shook her head, knowing that he still fought for them at the end of the day. Beotian was less receptive to the confession, but decided to not pursue any action against it.

“I can only say that this is your option now if you were to ask for my opinion. The swordsman here would be a great boon in your efforts to take back your home, and the men to bring down south may have family here, but they would not abandon you. All I ask is if you are to help bring peace when your king returns to power between our people and yours—an idea stuck in those youths’ heads.”

The idea was an interesting one, albeit full of fatal flaws, such as the number of people being brought along being unstated along with the concept that Anri would have no true way of knowing how their mission would go, but it was one granted to them free of charge.

“It would give us everything we want if it succeeds, but would require more steps along the way,” noted Cartas to himself. “Three villages of men were the original idea, but it was a gamble from the get go with the time I have, but with this I would need to find some way to convince the populace back home to fight for me, and they all swore loyalty to him of all people…”

“Well, it wasn’t what I wanted, but I guess it will make do.”

The three others watched as the Altean simply left the building, carrying his sword with him. They tried to ask where he was going, but was only greeted with the response of business to take care of, giving Cartas the impression it had to with someone they fought earlier.

Realizing trying to negotiate was not going to get him anywhere, he decided to steel himself for what taking this plan would cost him in the long run. Perhaps it would be even more expensive than the first, but it seemed to be the one the fighter from the islands received the best.

In fact, if he was to keep Anri around, it may make the reconquest of the Altean Islands easier if they have someone from there to act as their official ambassador. It would save them the heartache of trying to convince the people to not take up arms against the Holy Crown.

Still, a part of him was unconvinced this would work out the way Beotian thought it would, but as he heard some of the villagers shout towards the Altean not to enter the building did he realize there was no going back on the words of someone who he had just met that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Notes: This chapter was written with the hopes of not having any violence in it, something I feel I accomplished. I felt it would be better if this chapter just didn’t have any action and instead focused on moving the story forward to keep it from halting.
> 
> For those who desired the last chapter on time, I hope that you will forgive me. I will try to bring about the next chapter on Friday in the hopes that it makes up for more incredibly late update last week. For those who took the time of day to read this, thank you.


	4. Story Update

If anyone who has read and desires to keep up with my stories are confused over the lack of updates over the last few weeks, it was and is due to a real-life event that occurred within the family. Now, it was no tragedy of sorts, but it was big enough to catch my attention and I decided to focus on assisting my folks foremost. The details are something I rather not disclose for this is a private matter, but know the issue has mostly gone away, although there is still a bit of hesitance for me and my family to just ignore it.

While this was going on I tried to continue writing the two stories I have now:  _The Queen and Her Generals_  and  _They Who Commune With Ghosts_  while simultaneously planning for a future story on the game  _The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim_. I actually have a few chapters typed for both and a draft for the latter, but I cannot deny looking back on it that writing was not on my mind during the period of strife in my family, and the quality is shockingly low. As such, I would like to refine them even more so that you would find it to be of great distinction and enjoyability. Know, however, that I have decided to take a little break from writing to calm myself, as I have also decided to plan ahead more so that such incidents will not hurt the update schedule. As such, it may be a while before the next real updates to the stories, once again my apologies.

I know most of you don't care for such things and may not even mind the update schedule hiccups too badly as I myself have waited months for certain stories to be checked upon by their fellow authors, but I don't want to abandon these stories or bring about such grueling waiting periods when I had worked on these works for quite some time. Perhaps I may be melodramatic here, but I do feel bad that I just haven't communicated the reason behind a lack of commitment. I can't deny a part of me may just be lazy and tired, but I do wish to bring this story out to you. Many may even hate what I write and I'm fine with that; everyone likes something different, and they may have just, reasonable, and intelligent criticisms on my works. I just want to celebrate that which I have fondness for.

As such, to those who are following my stories, I'm not looking for sympathy or get-well messages because it is not I who needs them; I'm simply someone who gave similar things to someone I love. I just felt I needed to give you an explanation. To those who took the time of day reading this, I thank you for your time spent here, and wish you an amazing, productive, happy, and lovely New Year.


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